


Home is where

by emulikule



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Growing Up, Human AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Misunderstandings, episodic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-11 14:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19929238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emulikule/pseuds/emulikule
Summary: Growing up is a different experience for everyone. Some have it easier, some try to find things that can make them happier, and some just wish to forget the past ever happened. But mostly it's just a collection of ups and downs and it's always easier to go through something if you have someone close to you to be there.A collection of snippets from the lives of two boys who found each other on a hot summer's day and decided that they would like to spend more time with the other.





	Home is where

**Author's Note:**

> Since I didn't want to butcher any actual places in the UK the setting is just vaguely based on places from my own childhood. So remember, if you read a part and find yourself thinking 'huh, I'm pretty sure that's not how this works' just know that it probably does in some backwater European country.  
> Hope you enjoy~

Small pieces of rubble crunched underneath a pair of shoes that at one point in time could have been considered neat and pristine but were now covered in grime collected from a trek on the fraying asfalt. One would have been able to avoid the dark smudges of mud that lined the shoes’ sides if they had been concerned about preserving them at least a little; however, the current owner of these shoes didn’t really feel like doing that. All he had on his mind was finding a quiet place in the shade as far away from his house as possible. A difficult feat in a small town, but one he took on nonetheless. 

The music of tireless crickets followed him from the overgrown grass that framed the road, a backdrop to his journey that he didn’t mind that much—at least it wasn’t sounds of other people. The boy eventually stopped once he neared his destination and took a few moments to see if he was as alone as he had hoped to be.

The orchard that spread before him was empty of human presence, only birdsong and the rustle of leaves greeted him as the boy took a step from the gravel that had overtaken the asfalt at some point and made his way towards the welcoming shade of the trees. He had overheard his parents talking how the owners of the garden were going to be gone for the weekend, leaving the place unattended. They could have hired people to look over it but no one saw the point in doing that. The only real trouble could have been the town kids, of which there weren’t that many to begin with, but most of them had already been reprimanded numerous times for stealing the fruit and the orchard was too far out on the outskirts of the town for the rest to bother. Either way, the boy hadn’t been planning on stealing anything, just looking for a place all to himself.

The sun danced through the ceiling of foliage created by the expanding branches and onto the shortly trimmed grass beneath the boy’s feet. Some of it landed on him as well, creating a moving pattern of light on his already fair clothes and skin, though in the shadow all of that had gone a few shades darker. The only splash of colour on him was the green book that he held in his hands, one that was currently being clutched tightly to his chest as though the child was trying to protect it from everything around the two of them. 

He glanced at a spot beneath one of the trees only long enough for a fleeting thought of the possibility of dirtying his shorts if he sat down there to pass through him and did exactly so. The book lay heavy in his lap, his arms had already grown tired of holding onto it long ago and the sweat from his fingertips had left several small imprints on the hard cover. He really wished he hadn’t ruined it, he knew that it had been careless of him but he hadn’t thought of bringing a bag with him. He hadn’t thought much at all, if he was being completely honest.

The boy opened the book almost reverently after taking the time to wipe his hands on his shorts—if they were already going to be ruined they might as well serve another purpose. The slight coarseness of the paper underneath his gentle touches was enough to carry his thoughts from the wide and empty spaces of his house to the vast and absorbing world presented by the relatively small item in front of him. He didn’t notice how uncomfortable it was to sit on the ground with his back against a tree and to read in the constantly shifting mixture of shadow and light that covered the pages. None of that mattered as long as he had this.

He also didn’t notice when the occasional rustle of the leaves from the fickle summer wind became louder and more erratic in the branches right above him. Some of them fell right onto the papers that he had lost himself in but the boy only brushed them aside and continued with his reading. The branches of the apple-tree swayed some more as they were pulled closer and then snapped back into their previous position, a faint popping sound lost in the swishing of the shuddering leaves.

“Hey.”

The boy scrunched up his nose at the unexpected sound of the word and drew his attention, albeit begrudgingly, from his book. If there was someone else here then they would make him leave, maybe even pointedly scoff at him for being where he wasn’t supposed to be, potentially stealing the precious fruit from the orchard. He looked around to see who was calling him but couldn’t see anything that wasn’t there when he first came to this place. Confused, he narrowed his eyes and wondered if he was imagining things. After a few more moments of silence he shrugged and was about to go back to his reading when he was interrupted again. 

“Hey!” The word was more incessant now, slightly louder as well, and it was coming from above him. The boy slowly raised his head to see who was calling him and had to blink a bit from a few of the sun’s rays getting into his eyes. At first he couldn’t see anything but after a few more blinks he finally managed to make out a figure slouched on one of the bigger branches staring right at him. Or at least he thought that the other kid was staring at him—the large sunglasses that threatened to slide down at any moment from the nose that they were perched on were somewhat of an obstacle to determine if he was correct on that assessment. 

“Hello?” He found his voice, seemingly distant and unsure as his mind registered the sound of it.

The other child—also most likely a boy from what he could tell, though his face was framed with wild locks of long auburn hair—moved on the branch as he made himself more comfortable and then leaned down with one of his hands holding onto the offshoot while he extended the other towards the boy still sitting on the ground. In it he held an apple that he had most likely just plucked from the tree. The boy who had been reading closed the book and stood up, his eyes fixed on the fruit offered to him. He could easily take it if he extended his own hand.

“We’re not supposed to take these,” he said instead as he looked back at the other kid in what he hoped was his eyes—the dark glasses had almost entirely slipped off at this point but from his vantage point they still obstructed him from seeing the other’s eyes.

“Oh who’s gonna notice anyway?” 

The boy shifted on his feet, putting his weight on one and then the other, and then looked around the garden again. Still as empty as before. He hadn’t noticed before but he was getting hungry. Would one apple really make a difference amongst the sea of other fruit just like it?

“My name’s Anthony,” the other kid said as he wiggled his outstretched hand like an invitation, “but I don’t like it much. You can call me Crowley.”

The boy on the ground raised his arm and gently touched the offered apple, a couple of his fingers faintly brushing against Crowley’s as he took it from him. It was ripe and heavy in his small hand, close to falling on its own if it hadn't been interrupted. He looked back at the boy in the tree and gave him a smile that barely twitched at his lips but collected itself all in his eyes. “Aziraphale Fell,” he offered in exchange.

At that point Crowley’s glasses finally slid all the way from his nose and fell with only a light thud on the soft grass. He lay on the branch without moving, wondering if the other boy had stuttered while saying his way too long name but after noticing how intently Aziraphale was staring at him in silence Crowley decided that the other’s parents were just weirdos. He steadied himself on the branch and then made his way down the tree to where the other boy was standing. In the short time it took him to do that Aziraphale had picked up his sunglasses and offered them back, his fingers carefully holding onto the rims so that he wouldn’t smudge the tinted glass.

“Thanks,” Crowley said as he took them and put the accessory back on his face. Aziraphale felt a tang of disappointment as he watched the other’s eyes disappear once more. Even in the shade of the tree he had gotten a glimpse of hazel so light it looked like dripping gold but the moment was too short to actually indulge in the colour. All he was left with was his own reflection staring back at him from the dark frames.

“So are you actually going to eat that?” Crowley pointed to the apple still sitting in Aziraphale’s right hand, the book he had been reading clutched close to him in his left. 

“Oh, right!” the other boy looked at the fruit as though he had forgotten that he had been holding it and finally took a bite. He sat back down in the spot he had been previously and Crowley didn’t take any time to sit next to him.

“Aren’t your clothes going to stain?” he asked as he took in Aziraphale’s whole getup. Everything about him was so light coloured that Crowley wondered if we would look transparent if he stood against the sun. The only thing that wasn’t white or beige were his eyes, though Crowley couldn’t tell exactly what colour they were both because of the shade that the two of them were in and because of his sunglasses.

“They probably will.” Aziraphale looked slightly concerned as he said that. “I usually take good care of my clothes but today just isn’t the day for that. Though if I was the one who had actually picked out my clothes then you can be sure I would keep them in tip-top condition.” He gave a wistful smile at that as he took another bite and carefully chewed. His eyes then fell back on Crowley, who sat covered from top to bottom in black. “Isn’t it hot for you?” Even in the shade he could still feel the sweltering summer heat. He could only imagine how Crowley must have felt like.

“Nah, I like the warmth. Even fell asleep in the tree because of it.”

So that was why Aziraphale hadn’t noticed him before.

“And you didn’t fall down?” the other boy asked incredulously.

“I did.” Crowley shrugged and patted the ground. “I just got up and climbed up again.”

Aziraphale flinched at the thought and tried to discern from just looking at the other boy if he was injured. He had moved so easily on the tree and down it, maybe it hadn’t been a heavy fall?

“So are you new here?” Crowley bounced the topic. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

At that Aziraphale blushed and drew his legs closer to his chest, suddenly feeling embarrassed for some reason. “No,” he answered, not looking at the other, “I live up the hill, where the bigger houses are. I don’t go out much, that’s all.”

“Oh, is it that huge white house that doesn’t fit in at all?”

“I think so, unless there are more that I don’t know about.”

“I saw some older kids around it but never you,” Crowley mused as he took a fistful of grass and pulled it. “Why’s today different? Did you have a fight?” He let the grass fall on Aziraphale’s legs, avoiding the shorts. The other boy either didn’t notice it or care.

“Something like that.” He didn’t elaborate further so Crowley didn’t push.

“Pretty far away from your house, though. Did you know this place would be empty?”

Aziraphale perked up at that and gave an enthusiastic smile. “I did! That’s why I came all the way here—to get away from the house.”

“And not to steal any apples?” Crowley couldn’t help a bemused smile of his own from escaping.

“Well I hadn’t planned on taking any originally…” the other trailed off somewhat sheepishly but it didn’t look like he was feeling remorseful as a measly core now sat on the ground next to him. “I did take this to read,” he said excitedly as he put up the book between the two of them, showing off the cover to Crowley. The boy hummed as an answer and Aziraphale took it as a cue to open it up and begin explaining what it was all about. He became a lot more animated as the words spilled from him and he pointed to his favourite passages or quotes, obviously having read the book at least one time, though from the way he was speaking Crowley could guess it was probably more than once.

He listened to Aziraphale talk and followed his fingers whenever he showed something to him, not having the heart to tell the other boy that he hadn’t yet learned how to read himself. But it was nice this way too, he thought as he took an apple that had just recently fallen near him and took a big bite.

He could get used to it.

* * *

It was not odd to hear the doorbell ring during the weekend when most of the family members were at home. There were many possibilities of whom it could have been at the door—one of his father’s numerous well-dressed friends, some of his siblings’ schoolmates perhaps, maybe even their neighbour coming over to visit. One thing that Aziraphale had not expected to see from around his father when he opened the door was another kid right around his age, dressed all in black with a backpack slung across his shoulders and confidently sporting oversized sunglasses. His hair fell even messier than how he remembered it the first time they had met. 

“I’m looking for Aziraphale,” he said in lieu of a greeting. A grave mistake when meeting his father. Aziraphale found it quite funny.

He could imagine the look of polite distaste on the man’s face but that thought quickly went away once he saw Crowley notice him and give him a grin. He waved at the boy standing outside his door.

“I’m sorry, but Aziraphale does not associate with the kinds of children like _you_ ,” his father said and reached to close the door.

“Buzzkill,” Crowley retorted and stuck out his tongue, much to the man’s abhorrence. Aziraphale only hoped the other boy saw him mouth ‘wait’ and point to the backdoor before the door shut in his face. 

He didn’t take his time to see if his father had anything to say about Crowley looking for him but made his way upstairs where his room was. The boy waited a few moments, listening to his father’s footsteps fade, indicating that he had gone back to the living room. Once he was sure the coast was clear Aziraphale quietly descended down the stairs, put on his shoes and went out through the backdoor, all the way making sure he made as little noise as possible. He rushed around his backyard, ducking underneath the windows, and almost ran into the gates. To Aziraphale’s delight Crowley was sitting on the sidewalk, a dark bike parked near the fence beside him.

“So I was right about your house,” Crowley said as the other boy took a few breaths to collect himself both from the running and from indirectly disobeying his father. “Which room is yours?”

Aziraphale pointed to the second floor at the windows pointing out to the side of their backyard with a tree right next to it. “I didn’t expect to see you again,” he said once he finally caught his breath.

“I’m not that easy to get rid off,” Crowley waved off before stilling and pressing his lips tighter. “Unless you want me to?”

“No no no,” Aziraphale shook his head vigorously, “I would have thought it the other way around.”

“Nah, I wouldn’t have come looking for you then.” Crowley stood up and patted the bike’s handlebar. “Let’s go. Do you have a bike?”

Aziraphale only shook his head again. There had never been a real reason to ask his parents to get him one since he always stayed inside.

“I can teach you to ride mine then,” the other boy said nonchalantly. “I like it, but I wish I had a car. They’re so cool, right?”

“I… think so?” Aziraphale didn’t have much opinion on them but he could see Crowley perk up at the mention of it. “We shouldn’t stay here, though. My parents might see me and they think I’m in my room right now.”

“Sure, sure, we can go further down the road. It’s smoother here, so it will be easier for you to learn how to ride a bike.”

The two of them talked as they strolled down the more upscale neighbourhood, Crowley looking as though he would fall asleep on his bike if he hunched over it just a little bit more, his arms splayed loosely on the handlebars and most of his weight on them as his legs only barely put any effort into moving. Once Crowley deemed that they were far enough he straightened back up—or at least as much as his odd slouch would let him—and offered the bike to Aziraphale.

“You just sit on it, grip the bars and pedal. I’ll help you out at the back.”

“Won’t I fall?” Aziraphale looked uncertainly at the bike. “How do I keep my balance?”

“I dunno.” Crowley shrugged. “I just kinda tried to ride it a few times, fell down, tried again, and then it just sorta clicked into place.”

“Clicked into place…” Aziraphale echoed as he took a deep breath and tried to do what Crowley had instructed him to. 

The other boy held the bike under the seat and steadied it once Aziraphale had gotten on, then he started to gently push it as he told Aziraphale to hold on and pedal. It wasn’t too bad, kind of wobbly at first but Aziraphale found that he trusted Crowley, putting aside the fact that he barely knew the kid.

After a few more minutes of slowly maneuvering around the empty street Aziraphale began to feel more confident in himself. He had even begun to ride faster as Crowley ran behind him. That was quickly shattered as Crowley said, “I’m going to let go now, okay?” 

Aziraphale only managed to let out a vague sounding noise before he felt the bike become lighter and a whole lot less steady. Panic rose up in him and the world immediately tilted sideways as he felt himself lose control of the bike and unceremoniously fall right onto the asfalt. 

He took a few seconds to gather what had happened and looked down at himself. His white trousers were definitely dirty now and he could see that one of his knees had scraped against the street, a bit of blood velling up at the surface of chaffed off skin. He wasn’t as much in pain as he just felt disoriented, but then he heard Crowley call his name as the other boy rushed to his side.

“Are you okay?” he asked, worry clear in his voice. “I’m sorry for letting go too early.”

“I scraped my knee,” Aziraphale said for an answer and pointed at it. 

At that Crowley hurriedly took off the backpack that he had been wearing and dug through it, taking out a bottle of water and a pack of bandaids and tissues. “Wait a bit,” he said and took off towards one of the greener patches along the sidewalk. He appeared to be looking for something as he walked through it and then turned his attention to one of the gardens that didn’t have a tall fence. He climbed over it without even bothering to check if the gate was unlocked and came back after a few more moments, clutching something in his hand.

Crowley put down a couple of green leaves on the sidewalk and kneeled by Aziraphale. He unscrewed the bottle and poured some of the water on the leaves, lightly rubbing them between his hands. “Give me your leg,” he beckoned and scooted closer as Aziraphale shifted so that the scraped knee would be in front of the other boy. “This might hurt a little but it should heal quickly.” 

He poured the water on the wound, eliciting only a faint sting when the water first made contact, and after the bottle was almost empty he gently padded Aziraphale’s knee with a tissue. Then he took one of the leaves he had brought and put it on the scrape where some of the blood had been velling up.

“What is that?” Aziraphale finally spoke up. He hadn’t really cried but he still felt prickles of tears at the sides of his eyes. He guessed it was just his body reacting to the shock.

“Plantain leaves,” Crowley answered, his voice a lot more hushed. Aziraphale couldn’t tell if it was because the other boy was concentrating on what he was doing or if he felt the need to be more careful. “They can help with the pain and the blood.”

Watching Crowley fuss over him felt nice, Aziraphale thought. He hadn’t really experienced this a lot, and even though he hadn’t shown to be in great distress the other boy immediately decided to help him. Aziraphale didn’t even feel much pain, but when he saw Crowley already putting a big bandaid on his knee he felt as though the moment went through too quickly.

He pretended to sheepishly raise his right hand and showed off a small scrape he had gotten on the heel of his palm as well.

* * *

Rain poured down in a seemingly never-ending pattern, the darkness of the night and the clouds were intermittently broken up by the flickering street lights, though only barely. Crowley trudged past them, wondering if it would be easier for him to see if he only took off his glasses. He threw the thought away and continued walking, heading for what his parents called ‘the rich neighbourhood’. Well, they would usually refer to it and the people living there with more colourful adjectives, but he didn’t bother copying them.

The white house was easy to spot even in the dim light. The boy went through the gates and made his way through the backyard until he stood under a towering tree. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket and looked up to the second floor at the lit up windows. Crowley took a few minutes to just stand there and contemplate if he really wanted to do this. He came all the way here through the rain but he could turn back and leave. He could find other places to be. His thoughts were cut off as the second floor windows flew open and a surprised Aziraphale looked at him from above.

“Crowley?!” he shouted through the sounds of the rain. “What are you doing here?!”

No turning back now. “I came to visit!”

He saw Aziraphale fret, looking side to side as he was obviously trying to think of what to do. Even from down here Crowley could see the expressions on his face changing rapidly. 

“Uh, you could try going through the back door, but it might be locked already and I’ll draw a lot of attention if I open it at a time like this!” Aziraphale offered.

Crowley flicked his gaze to the tree and the branches that snaked towards the window and the smaller roof that covered the terrace below them. It would be slippery from the rain, but he could make it.

Hopefully.

“Don’t worry!” he called back and took his hands out of his pockets. Shortly after he began climbing the tree.

“What are you doing?! You’ll fall!” the other boy cried out but Crowley couldn’t spare his attention towards him at the moment. His feet slid a few times and his glasses were definitely not helping him but the arrangement of the branches was convenient enough to allow him to scale the tree and hop down on the shingles. He had not, however, thought about this particular part of the climb as the roof inclined downward and made him lose his balance once his hands and feet had landed on the slippery surface.

Crowley wobbled a bit, trying to keep himself steady, but he felt his shoes begin to slide down towards the sharp fall at the edge of the roof. Alarms went off in his head and his muscles spasmed as he braced himself for the inevitable impact which never came.

Without thinking he had closed his eyes and now the boy opened them only to see Aziraphale clutching at one of his hands as he held onto the window frame with his other hand, his face contorted with strain.

“Come on,” he grunted and tried to pull Crowley towards him, heaving heavily as the other boy scrambled to pull himself up and into the room.

The two of them took some time to catch their breaths and then Aziraphale shot back up from the floor to close the window. Luckily there hadn’t been any strong wind, though some of the wall right beneath the window was stained with rain droplets and a small puddle had formed on the floor. This didn’t seem to matter to the boy as he turned his attention back to Crowley who was still sitting and had begun to shiver lightly.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale said as he took in the sight. “I’ll be right back.” He scurried out of the room, still making sure to close the door quietly even when in a hurry.

Crowley took the moment to look around the room. Its walls and the furniture were as white as the rest of the house, but most of that was covered up by shelves upon shelves of books, bringing life to what was supposed to be a minimalistic design. It seemed like he had interrupted Aziraphale as he had been reading one of them, the book lying open on the wide bed in the centre of the room against one of the bleak walls.

Aziraphale soon came back with a huge white towel in his arms. He barely managed to open and close his door as he stepped in and made his way to the other boy. Crowley let himself be wrapped up in the fluffy towel and didn’t make any fuss even when Aziraphale began to dry his hair. He only tensed up when the other boy’s hands slid to his glasses.

“Can I take them off?” Aziraphale asked tentatively. “You don’t need to wear them inside.”

“I do.”

“You don’t need to wear them when you’re with me?” the boy changed his approach, albeit unsure of himself as he said that.

Crowley didn’t answer but he didn’t protest when Aziraphale took that as his cue to remove the sunglasses. He was expecting the quiet gasp that the other let out after he did so.

“What happened to your eye and cheek?” he asked as his fingers gently brushed along Crowley’s bruised skin. “Did you get into a fight?”

“Something like that.”

Aziraphale didn’t look like he enjoyed the answer but he took it without further questioning. “You need to get changed or you’ll catch a cold in these wet clothes. I can give you some of mine, though I don’t know how well they’ll fit.” He turned to rummage through his closet and Crowley watched him in silence as he put down a white T-shirt and sweatpants on the edge of the bed. “I’ll bring something else too, so just get changed,” he said before running out the door once again.

Crowley begrudgingly did as he was told—the towel had been really cozy after all—and put on the new clothes. They were a tad short on him and fell in a baggy manner since his and Aziraphale’s body types weren’t the same, but they were comfortable enough. His feet felt cold so after discarding his wet clothes in a pile on the floor he wrapped himself back up into the towel and waited. 

Aziraphale came back with a bowl and sat down on the bed, gesturing for Crowley to join him on it as well. Once he did Aziraphale took out a small packet of ice from the bowl, leaving a spoon and some sort of healing cream inside of it. 

“Here,” he said as he held out the ice in front of the other’s face, “this should help with the swelling and if it gets too cold or starts to melt then you can put the spoon on instead. It should be cold enough to help too.”

“I’m not gonna put a spoon on my eye,” Crowley almost hissed as he took the ice from Aziraphale and carefully put it on the left side of his face.

“Who else is going to see you besides me?” the other boy asked bemusedly.

Fair point.

They took their time as Crowley cooled off his bruises and even put on the damned spoon at Aziraphale’s insistence. He also got him some socks once he saw the other boy curling his toes and putting his feet atop one another to heat them up. Once Aziraphale had decided that enough time had passed he carefully applied some of the cream on the other boy’s face.

“You know,” Crowley said as he closed his eyes and let Aziraphale rub the skin around one of them, “I don’t know if I said this but you talk like a grandpa.”

Aziraphale stopped for a second before continuing with his task. “I do? What does that even mean?”

“Like, you don’t talk like the other kids and sometimes use these fancy words,” Crowley tried to explain, not entirely sure himself what he meant by that. “Maybe it’s ‘cause you read all those books?” 

He opened his eyes since he didn’t feel Aziraphale moving anymore and for the first time he took in the colour of the other boy’s irises. He hadn’t really seen them before without his glasses and the blue that he was met with suited Aziraphale quite nicely. Not too pale to be cold and just dark enough to fit with the warm expressions that he usually wore. Right now, though, they were wide open with slight surprise.

“I never thought of it that way but perhaps you’re right,” Aziraphale said as he looked around his room and at all of the stacked shelves. “Do kids usually not read this much?”

“Most kids here only start learning to read when they go to school.” Crowley still had time until that so he hadn’t bothered. Not a lot of books to read at his place anyway.

“Do you know how to read?” Aziraphale moved closer as he asked, easily popping into Crowley’s nonexistent personal bubble. He seemed to be taking this conversation very personally. 

“Eeeeeh…” the other boy gave a noncommittal shrug as he averted his gaze.

“I can teach you then!” Aziraphale jumped on the bed excitedly. “We can have a sleepover, though in the morning we will have to sneak past anyone that will be in the house. My parents will most likely be out but my siblings are home for the summer holidays.”

“I can climb the tree again,” Crowley offered, liking this enthusiasm that the other boy showed. Aziraphale made a face at that.

“It might still be wet and you already almost fell today. Maybe we can find a safer option.”

Crowley decided not to argue and so the two of them spent the better half of the night huddled close together on Aziraphale’s enormous bed, Crowley trying to learn how to read as the other boy drew letters on a piece of paper and sounded them out with a clear voice. It was kind of tedious, but as long as Aziraphale seemed to be enjoying himself Crowley didn’t mind. Maybe he could even sleep during his first lessons at school if he learnt enough now.

* * *

Eventually school did start and the two boys had been lucky enough to be of a similar age to start it together. It also helped that there had only been one school in their town so they inevitably ended up in the same classroom on the first day.

Aziraphale didn’t look like he knew what he was supposed to do exactly but that didn’t deter him from being enthusiastic about everything. Crowley, on the other hand, did not like what school entitled. He wasn’t allowed to wear his sunglasses inside and everyone referred to him as ‘Anthony’. Everyone, that is, except for Aziraphale, whose own name became a subject of several taunts that didn’t seem to faze the boy at all.

Crowley had sought out Aziraphale during the opening ceremony—something that had become increasingly easy for him to do—and stuck with him through the rest of the day and then the following week. A routine slowly emerged between the two of them once Crowley passed Aziraphale on the street with his bike one day and found out that the other’s parents had left him to his own accord of going to and from the school. From then each day Crowley would pedal to Aziraphale’s house, meet him by the gate and then go together, doing the reverse when coming back from school.

As days passed they made more friends from their classroom, though it seemed that each of the boys attracted different crowds around them and barely anyone meshed together from the two groups. That didn’t mean that the two didn’t spend time together anymore—they had never constantly been around each other to begin with. The two would talk during recess and Crowley would sometimes bother Aziraphale during class time as well, throwing him crumpled notes or making faces to get the other to laugh when the teacher wasn’t looking. 

The one thing that bothered Crowley, though, was the fact that some kids would make fun of Aziraphale and the boy didn’t even seem to notice it. Some of them had also tried to do the same with him but Crowley was having none of it and flatly told them where they could shove it. He guessed that he had learned at least something useful from his family.

Aziraphale, however, didn’t seem like he had had similar teachings and Crowley would occasionally hear others remark about the most stupid things in regards to his friend. He figured that he could just play a guardian angel when it came to this but what if casual jeers eventually turned to violence and he wasn’t around when that happened? He decided that this needed to be nipped in the bud early so one day as the two of them were walking back from school Crowley raised the subject.

“I’m sure you’ve heard them, some of those guys have even said it to your face,” he said, trying to keep his tone cool and failing miserably.

“I have and they did,” Aziraphale agreed completely unruffled, “but isn’t that normal? I’m quite used to it.”

“ _Used to it_ _?!_ ” Crowley gawked, feeling offended on the other’s behalf. “You shouldn’t be _used to it!_ You should stand up for yourself, tell them off, get into a fight, anything!”

“Tell an adult?”

“Nah, they can’t do anything useful. I can help you if you want, though.”

Aziraphale took a few moments to think to himself, his gaze drawing inwards and his expression turning taut. He seemed to be arguing with himself but eventually he looked back at Crowley and smiled. “Alright, I’ll deal with it.” Before Crowley could say anything he also added, “By myself.”

The other boy couldn’t say that he was really satisfied but he would take it for now. He promised himself that he would keep an eye on Aziraphale in the following days in case anything went awry.

He did exactly so and yet Aziraphale still managed to somehow slip past him and disappear at times. This only pissed off Crowley more and the boy became a lot more distracted than he usually was, to the point that some of his other friends even commented on it but he just ignored them.

Perhaps if he had paid more attention he would have noticed how the mocking towards his friend completely died out, leaving only shifting gazes and avoidance from the previous antagonizers while Aziraphale just carried on with that sweet smile of his.

By the end of the week Crowley sat at his desk long after everyone had scurried away, both waiting for Aziraphale to show up from wherever he had gone to right after the classes had ended, and feeling like he could do anything if it just meant staying away from his home longer that day. He had nearly dozed off on his desk because of the pleasant early fall sun but was roused once Aziraphale poked him in the forehead.

“I took care of it,” he said and it took Crowley a while to figure out what he was talking about as he tried to glare at the other through his sunglasses. “We can go home now.”

“Don’t feel like it.”

This actually seemed to be exactly what Aziraphaled had hoped to hear as he beamed and took the other boy by the arm. “Then I know just the place we can go!”

Crowley protested only mildly as he was dragged out of the building and led to his bike, Aziraphale talking about everything and nothing at the same time. He guided them towards the shopping district and gained a raised eyebrow from the other boy since he had not expected his friend to head there. He had expected the park or some other remote place but maybe Aziraphale had found a bookshop or a nice cafe. Not that they had much money to spend for those kinds of things, though.

Ultimately Crowley found himself standing in front of an ice cream shop with Aziraphale grinning at him like he had just read the most amazing book. He fidgeted while the other parked his bike and ushered them inside cooing and awwing at the display of sweets before them.

“Choose whatever you want,” he said to Crowley as he had already begun looking at the options.

“It’s the end of the week, I don’t think I have enough for any of these,” Crowley protested.

“Oh don’t worry about that, I’ll pay for both of us. After all, today’s special.”

At that Crowley went still and looked warily at his friend. “You don’t mean—”

“I most likely do.”

“How the hell—”

“Just choose the ice cream, Crowley,” Aziraphale said with a sigh and a look that told the other boy that he was starting to get tired of his antics.

That shut him up and Crowley obediently picked strawberry while Aziraphale went with cookie dough. The two of them then—just as Crowley had guessed—went to the small park and sat by the edge of the pond on a tiny blanket that Aziraphale had procured from his backpack while they finished their ice creams. A couple of ducks had wandered closer to them but Crowley just shooed them away and when that didn’t work gave them some of his crumbled waffle cone.

When he turned back to Aziraphale the boy was holding a gift bag in his palms and looking expectantly at Crowley. He couldn’t take this anymore.

“Okay, how did you find out? I don’t remember telling you when my birthday was,” he said exasperated as he still took the bag from the other.

“I have my secrets.” The other boy winked and he was probably going for a mischievous look but it didn’t fully land with his features.

“That’s not fair, what if I missed yours?”

“Mine’s only in spring, there’s still plenty of time until that. Now look inside,” Aziraphale said gleefully, more excited about the present than Crowley was.

The boy opened the bag and found a pair of sunglasses inside. He took them out and checked them before the sun that had already begun to slowly set, dipping their surroundings into muted colours. They glinted slightly and the sleek silver frame looked both expensive and simple at the same time.

“Come on, try them on!”

Crowley turned the gift in his hands a couple more times and then finally took off the oversized glasses he always wore and put on the new ones.

They fit perfectly.

“You look great!” Aziraphale clapped his hands and smiled broadly at the other boy. “I was afraid they wouldn’t fit or they didn’t mesh with uhh,” he gestured vaguely at Crowley, “your whole aesthetic.”

“Thanks,” Crowley murmured almost inaudibly under his nose and when he saw Aziraphale only blinking at him expectantly he turned his head away and said more loudly, “I said I’m not used to celebrating this so it’s weird, but thanks anyway I guess.”

“Then that’s something we both have in common,” the other said and though Crowley couldn’t see his face at the moment because he was still decidedly _not_ looking at him he resolved to break the pattern of shitty birthdays for his friend as well.

Now he only needed to find out when exactly it was and begin saving up money yesterday.

* * *

Time passed as it inevitably does, bringing changes both welcome and those that could have rather never happened at all. One thing that Crowley liked was the fact that Aziraphale gradually began wearing more colour. Granted, it wasn’t a huge shift towards rainbows and patterns but a collection of more subdued pastel shades that still stayed close to his original pale look but added a bit more flourish, even if the boy dressed somewhat like an older man.

Crowley himself didn’t stray too far from his preferred dark clothes but he did add some accents himself, mainly red or silver ones. He knew that he and Aziraphale would sometimes be referred to as the odd duo—though nobody said that to their faces after Aziraphale had ‘taken care of things’—as nobody could understand how the two of them were close just from their shallow knowledge about them. Everyone thought that they were _so_ different—even their colour schemes were a contrast to one another.

Shows how much they knew.

Sure, they had different interests, friend groups and manners, but none of that mattered much, not really. They shared time and memories, a comforting presence when the other did not want to deal with the world, moments of contentment while listening to music that Crowley had chosen, sometimes even dancing to it when the song was a particular ‘bebop’ as Aziraphale liked to call them, pleasant afternoons enjoying food at the local diner or at the park (mainly on Aziraphale’s insistence and allowance), and entertaining distractions of games probably meant for more kids but enjoyed by just two.

Crowley liked what they had, even if he would sometimes feel like something was missing that he just couldn’t place. He enjoyed the time they spent when it was just the two of them, though he had to learn the hard way that if he wanted to eat at all he needed to do it quickly instead of just losing himself in the conversation or staring at the other boy since Aziraphale would just move on to helping himself out with Crowley’s food once he had finished his own.

He wanted to think that he was responsible for Aziraphale starting to wear more accessories since that started once he had gifted the other boy a golden coloured intricate ring during one of their small birthday celebrations. It had been a risk on his part since no matter how well he claimed to know Aziraphale he had had no clue whether the other would like that or just politely thank him and put the present in the deepest corner of a drawer. Luckily, it seemed that Crowley had guessed correctly that his friend would like to accessorise. Maybe he just hadn’t thought of the possibility before that.

Sadly, Crowley outgrew his bike and did not get a new replacement so their travel to school arrangement had to change. They had found a middle point where their paths converged and decided to meet there every morning. If one was late the other was supposed to wait ten minutes before heading to school alone. Aziraphale would wait twenty and then leave for school. Crowley would just immediately head for the other’s house and sneak into his friend’s room to see if he was sick or if there was anything else going on.

They weren’t very good at being punctual.

* * *

The last year of school ended on a bleak summer day.

Celebrations were in order, futures were being planned, classmates made promises they would stay in touch that only a few of them believed in and Aziraphale stood by himself at the back of the classroom watching all of it unfold. From the corner of his eye he saw Crowley saunter towards him, leaving behind the rest of his friends without them really noticing it.

“Will you go with any of them?” he asked, most likely referring to a few parties that would happen in the evening.

“Not sure,” Aziraphale answered truthfully. If he was being honest with himself he had never truly felt close to any of his other classmates. Sure, he had friends with whom he would play games when he was younger and would later hang out, do homework together or just chat, but he knew that none of them really knew much about him. They were nice people, they just weren’t _his._

“I got roped into going to the beach with a few of mine since I have a car,” Crowley said, also keeping his gaze on the people mulling around in the room and avoiding looking directly at Aziraphale. “You can join us if you want.”

Celebrating with Crowley. That didn’t sound too bad, though. Through the years even if they drifted closer or further away it always came back to the same place—the two of them together. Aziraphale liked that. He would sometimes find himself wishing it could always go on like this but he knew that the future was unpredictable. Either way, he could at least enjoy the time he had right now.

“Isn’t it too windy and cloudy to go to the beach?” he said instead. He knew that he would eventually agree, he only wanted to hear Crowley’s persuasions and arguments.

“They say that by the time we get there in the evening it should clear up. The wind will blow away the clouds.”

“Won’t it be too cold to stay by the water?”

“We’ll make a bonfire.” Crowley shrugged and finally looked at Aziraphale. “And if it goes out we can stay in the dunes. Not as cold or windy there. One guy also has a summer house near it so we’ll crash there.”

Even if it was freezing Aziraphale would have probably still went there if it meant going with Crowley. “Alright. When will you leave?” He gave an affirmative smile and enjoyed seeing the twitch of emotion in the other’s carefully crafted stoic and nonchalant expression.

Crowley came over after a few hours in his beat-up car that he only had for the sheer reason of owning a car and being able to drive it—there wasn’t really a big reason to have one in their small town but he would have been damned if that stopped him. Aziraphale, on the other hand, couldn’t even place what model it was, he only knew that Crowley had his eyes on some sort of Bentley that he would talk about getting once he saved up enough. The current car that puffed its way towards the front of his gate looked like it had been flattened at some point in its long and most likely miserable life, perhaps even at the very beginning when the manufacturer decided that being able to lie down on top of the trunk was the most important asset it could offer to potential buyers.

“Get in, angel. We’re going to be late,” Crowley grumbled without any real malice.

Ah yes, the nickname. Aziraphale couldn’t exactly recall when Crowley started using it. It could have been when they found out that most names that ended in ‘el’ meant ‘from God’ and Crowley, who hadn’t remembered how his friend’s name was actually spelled, declared that that meant Aziraphale was holy. It could have also arisen from the numerous winged accessories he had collected during the years—also mostly courtesy of Crowley. Either way it didn’t matter much, though Aziraphale would sometimes wonder if his friend realised how affectionate that sounded out of context. It was always a mystery with Crowley whether something he did was on purpose or just an accident that he casually went with.

He put his bag in the trunk and sat down next to Crowley. The two of them drove around picking up Crowley’s other friends and then set off towards the beach. It was drizzling lightly as they entered the highway and Aziraphale kept up a polite conversation with the classmates that he never really interacted with aside occasional group projects and the few times he joined Crowley to a party. Nobody questioned why he was here, so either Crowley had told them beforehand or it was a given that Aziraphale would come with their friend.

When they finally reached the sea it was still overcast but it was warm enough and there was no rain so Crowley first stopped by the summer house for everyone to get their things out and get anything they needed for the bonfire, and then headed for the beach, parking as close to it as possible. Another car soon joined them, driven by a girl who had borrowed it from her parents. Once everyone and everything was accounted for the group headed towards the wooden path and steps that lead to the beach past the sand dunes.

The first thing that hit Aziraphale was the unmistakable smell of the sea, mixed with pine and something sweet that he couldn’t quite place. The beach was surrounded by a conifer forest whose massive trees rustled in the wind, creating a sibilant harmony with the sound of the crashing waves further ahead. The reeds and other tall grass swayed on the dunes as the people passed them. The others descended the wooden steps towards the beach but Aziraphale stopped at the edge of the walkway and just looked upon the tumultuous sea. It was clear that it was winding down, the waves definitely not as large as they most likely were during the earlier part of the day, not agitated anymore by the incessant wind that had now turned more into a refreshing breeze.

Crowley stopped next to him, his hands in his jean’s pockets, body in a practised slouch and the side of his eyes peeking through the frame of his sunglasses, looking off into the distant horizon. Aziraphale’s attention fixated on the tattoo the other had gotten about a year ago. The dark swirls of the curling snake could become mesmerising if one stared at it for too long. Azirapale had learnt every turn a long time ago.

The two of them stood in silence, breathing in the faintly salty air and letting the wind play with their hair and clothes. The muffled voices of the other people barely reached them, only adding to the ambience of the sea.

Crowley looked down at the slow beginnings of a bonfire and finally flicked his gaze towards Aziraphale. “Do you want to go down or stay up here?”

“We can go down, I’m just not sure how long I’ll stay there.”

“Then we’ll figure that out when we get there,” Crowley said and began climbing down the stairs. Aziraphale took a few more moments, looking up at the clouds to try and figure out if they would pass by anytime soon, and followed the other boy down.

By the time it had started to get dark the wind had died out completely, though not before taking the last dregs of the clouds overhead. The clear sky appeared just when the sun was melting into the water and Aziraphale stole Crowley’s glasses to look at it through them. Their dark tint made the ball look like it was a deep bleeding red. He gave them back soon after, knowing that the other wouldn’t really have minded it if there hadn’t been any other people around them. Right now was not the time.

Drinks were shared, somebody put on music and there was enough snacks between the two boys to make up for several full meals. They sat on their jackets, bare feet burrowed into the warm sand, and watched the fire crackle. At one point they had joined in a card game with several other people but the others went to do something different after a while.

They had drunken some cheap wine since it was the only semi-plausible choice from what their other classmates had brought. Aziraphale didn’t like the aftertaste left in his mouth but it was at least a better choice than beer or wine coolers. There was stronger stuff too and Aziraphale had taken the mixes whenever someone offered them to him so eventually the tastes in his mouth mad mixed enough for him not to really care anymore.

Crowley stood up to head for the drinks again and during the time it took him to come back Aziraphale had decided that he had had enough socializing for the day. He didn’t wait for the other boy to sit down and began piling the snacks that they still had left in a heap in the centre of his jacket. He then got up, feeling slightly wobbly as his vision swayed for just a moment before fixing back into place again—his lightheadedness a clear indicator that he might not be feeling too well in the morning—and took his jacket like a makeshift bag. Crowley also leaned in to take his own, obviously understanding what the other was heading for.

“Shall we go?” Aziraphale said, cradling his treasure close to himself.

“Sure,” Crowley drawled out, also noticeably tipsy, though it was harder to tell with him when he was just walking and not talking since his gait had never been the straightest one. “The dunes or the car?”

Aziraphale thought for a moment, weighing down the options. “The car,” he said after careful consideration that was mainly just him humming to himself for several seconds. “We can put on some music on the radio.”

“What, this doesn’t suit your tastes?” Crowley teased as he gestured with a nod of his head towards the few people dancing by the boombox. 

“Too much of something can never be good,” the other answered vaguely and heard Crowley puff out an incredulous breath. “Oh shut it you.”

They slipped away, Aziraphale carrying precious food and Crowley with a half-emptied bottle of wine. With every step they took through the dunes it became that much quieter and soon there were no more sounds of people anymore. They put on one of the cassettes that Crowley had in the glove compartment and Aziraphale decided to try out the feature of the car he always thought was the most prominent.

He sat on the trunk and pushed himself back until he could lean against the backseat window, setting down a packet of candy next to him for future snacking. Crowley joined in besides him and Aziraphale was delighted to see that he had taken off his glasses. The other boy offered him the wine bottle and he took it without much thought, taking a few deep swigs that didn’t leave much for Crowley.

The muffled music was a nice enough background sound, though at this point it was hard for Aziraphale to tell exactly what it was as he didn’t care enough to pay too much attention to it. He tilted his head backwards, voluntarily letting the dizziness in his head take over for a moment, and looked upon the now fully clear night sky. It wasn’t that much different from the one they could see in their hometown since the place was not big enough to bring too much light pollution, yet there was a particular feeling of otherness seeing it out here in the relative wilderness. 

“See anything interesting?” Crowley asked as he also leaned down, craning his head upwards. 

“The only thing I can tell apart is the Big Dipper, to me everything else just looks like a splash of white speckles of paint on a dark canvas,” Aziraphale answered truthfully. To him stars had always been just a beautiful thing to look at, not understand.

“Well if you can see that then you can also find some other constellations.” The other boy raised his arm, his index finger pointed towards the general direction of the Big Dipper. He then slowly began to trace the sky downwards and to the left. “There are tons that you can see when it’s earlier in the night like the Summer Triangle or almost half of the zodiac ones.” His finger stopped and Aziraphale tried his best to see whatever he was pointing at. “I like the Ophiuchus one. It’s pretty big so it isn’t too hard to spot. You can also call it the Serpent Bearer since it’s connected to the Serpens constellation and it’s based on a dude who’s like the ancient image of medicine. You know that drawing of a snake around a rod that they use sometimes in drugstores?”

Aziraphale’s wandering mind did not make it easy for him to focus on Crowley’s story but he’d be damned if he didn’t try his best so he hummed in agreement. He twirled his own finger to illustrate the image he had in his head. That seemed to be enough for the other to continue.

“So that’s actually because of him and the myths that snakes were involved with his medical expertise. Like one says that because he was nice to a snake it whispered some secret knowledge to him, though then you also get some that say he killed one by accident and then watched another bring it back to life by placing an herb on it. You could say that’s a taaaad bit different but it’s the thought that matters I guess.

“One of the stars in Ophiuchus is the Barnard’s Star and it’s the fourth closest known star to the sun after the other three in Alpha Centauri. That’s pretty amazing, right?”

Aziraphale gave an acknowledging hum to that. Listening to Crowley talk enthusiastically about something was never an irritating thing, though actually paying attention to it was a different matter altogether. It had not come as a big surprise when the other boy had mentioned that he was planning on majoring in Astronomy since the night sky was one of the few things he cared about enough to put an effort into understanding.

He shifted towards the middle of the trunk in an attempt to pop some candy into his mouth from the bag between him and Crowley. The fact that the other boy was actually looking at him and not the stars he had been pointing out came as a surprise and he froze, halfway turned at an uncomfortable angle that couldn’t matter less at the moment.

There was barely any light illuminating them so it was difficult to say what exact expression Crowley wore but at least his eyes were unguarded and Aziraphale was close enough to see that they were staring right at him. Now that his thoughts wandered in that direction he realised how close they were sitting to each other, hardly any space left between them as the packet of candies stood as the only barrier preventing their sides from brushing. He took it and placed it behind them atop the car.

Crowley didn’t move so Aziraphale did.

He fully turned so that he was facing the other, steadied himself on one arm to raise himself into a half sitting position, and raised the other to gently brush the few strands of Crowley’s auburn hair that looked jet black in the dark behind his ear, his fingertips lingering on the tattoo for a moment that felt suspended in time. Aziraphale tried to smile affectionately but he was sure that it came out as something silly since he couldn’t control his face that well anymore, his head feeling like it weighed nothing atop his shoulders.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first, it had already been difficult keeping track of what he was doing with his limbs. Maybe it was Crowley, who put one hand on his chest while the other had its fingertips gingerly brush across his cheek. Or maybe it was Aziraphale himself as he combed through the other’s hair which had gone through so many changes in style and yet still felt so distinctly _Crowley._

Skin upon skin, lips brushing and a quiet exhale of breath. It seemed like both of them had been holding in theirs for longer than they would have liked to admit. Aziraphale slowly moved to the side of Crowley’s face, cupping the other one with his hand and having his lips travel and rest on the tattoo. He had wondered what it felt like to touch it for a long time. 

Crowley had taken this to move to his neck, taking in deep breaths against it and tickling the sensitive skin there. Aziraphale could feel his teeth brush against it as well but no bite came so he drew back just enough to capture his lips again. He let the hand that he wasn’t holding against Crowley’s cheek wander until it tugged lightly at the hem of his shirt, easily sliding under it and ghosting over the other boy’s abdomen. He moved it further up and to the side but the moment he touched Crowley’s ribs the other let out a hissing sound against his mouth.

Aziraphale immediately drew back and could only see for a fleeting moment a patch of darkness where his fingertips had just been, but it was quickly obscured by the shirt and the lack of light that surrounded them. 

“Crowley…” he whispered apologetically.

“Ignore that,” the other said and placed a hand on the back of Aziraphale’s head, pulling him in once again.

He didn’t want to, he never did, but that was what Crowley had chosen to do and Aziraphale could only watch on in silence, a bystander that wanted to involve himself yet never knew how. He would only be able to help out after the fact and even then the help that Crowley wanted was usually ignorance, so Aziraphale gave in this time and let him have what he wanted at the moment—a sweet distraction in the form of kisses and fingers tangled up in messy hair.

* * *

The morning greeted Aziraphale with a pounding head and an extremely dry mouth. It took him a bit to just open up his eyes, though gladly the room’s blinds were drawn, casting all of it in a mellow light. Once he finally did he found himself in an unfamiliar room that looked somewhat of a cross between a bedroom and parlor. He was lying in the one bed it had and soon noticed two more people with him in this place. One was tangled up in a sheet on a lone mattress on the floor, their back turned to Aziraphale. The other was sprawled on the sofa, long limbs jutting out at uncomfortable angles.

Aziraphale took some time to gather where he was and what had led him to being here as he shifted on the bed and leaned his back against the headboard. His memory was splotchy, he thought he could recall being led to this room and stumbling face down onto the sheets. Perhaps there had been some vomiting but if that happened then it definitely wasn’t in this room. This was most likely the summer house one of his classmates had offered up to spend the night after partying at the beach. Well, looking at the light trying to force itself into the room through the blinds it was probably more accurate to say spend the early morning and the first half of the day.

He couldn’t really remember what had happened the night before, just the general image of being at the beach, enjoying the bonfire and mixing drinks that probably should not have been mixed. His head wouldn’t let him concentrate long enough on any particular memories at the moment and only gave him a vague feeling that he had experienced a sweet dream sometime during the night. His lips felt really chapped.

Deciding that he needed to get some water to drink and maybe hunt down any available medicine for his headache, he slowly got up, steeled himself, and tried to get out of the room without making too much noise and/or tripping over the person sleeping on the floor. Once he got closer to the sofa he recognised that the figure draped all over it was the unmistakable one of Crowley’s. Knowing him the boy had probably helped Aziraphale out to the bed and then taken the less comfortable option of sleeping for himself. The thought made Aziraphale feel both thankful and guilty. He didn’t want to wake the other up so he just fixed the blanket that had half-fallen off from him and exited the room.

Aziraphale managed to locate the kitchen and the few people there looked like they either hadn’t slept at all or had just woken up. For a brief moment he wondered how all of them had managed to get back to the house. Maybe there had been a few people who hadn’t been drinking and taken one for the team to drive them back. The ones in the kitchen were either halfheartedly eating breakfast or nursing a cup of coffee or tea so he greeted them and asked around for some aspirin. 

After a couple more hours most of the house was finally awake and in various stages of grogginess. Crowley was one of the last few to wake up and though his shades hid part of his face Aziraphale could still easily tell that he wasn’t feeling all too grand. He did seem to perk up once he saw Aziraphale and the two of them strayed away from the main few rooms that everyone was congregating in and found themselves out on the porch and in the not yet too hot summer sun.

Aziraphale had noticed that Crowley was not too talkative and that he had been looking at him tentatively, so he chalked it up to a hangover and carried the conversation on his side, talking about anything menial that came to his still somewhat hurting head but thankfully it had weakened to only a low thrum that could be ignored if he tried hard enough. With every change in topic Crowley seemed to grow more annoyed, though, and eventually the other intervened when Aziraphale had just started going on about the too quickly changing fashion styles.

“What about yesterday?” he asked, looking at the other boy through his glasses even though it was only the two of them out here. It was probably due to his own headache, figured Aziraphale.

“Yesterday?” He blinked and shifted his eyes to an upper corner to try and recall anything specific. “We did have quite a bit to drink. It was enjoyable though. The music could have been more quiet but overall I had fun.”

“What about after?” Crowley pushed more forcefully now and Aziraphale unconsciously shifted slightly further away from him. “The car? The stars? The—” he cut himself off and the other boy waited a few more moments to hear if he would finish the thought but nothing came.

Aziraphale could remember the wind clearing away the sky for the stars to become visible and he most likely got back to the house in a car since it was too far away for a drunk person to manage to walk to without something happening to them but those were trivial things. He didn’t expect Crowley to care about them. The only thing that nagged at his memory was the fleeting feeling that they were connected to the pleasant dream he had had.

“What about them?” he asked, hoping that maybe Crowley could help him piece together the previous night.

“ _What about them?_ ” the other boy echoed, the words coming out as a hiss through his nearly clenched teeth. “It’s the— How they— Argh!” He threw up his arms arm suddenly stood up. Aziraphale followed, not entirely sure what had led to this. He could clearly see the other’s furrowed brows even when they were half hidden by his sunglasses.

“Fine,” Crowley spat. “I get it. It was a mistake, something we should just forget ever happened and happily move on with our lives.”

His tone ruffled Aziraphale as well and the raised voice did not help in his current state of health. “I don’t see why you have to get so upset about this. It was only a simple question.” Sometimes Crowley could really act like a child throwing a tantrum.

“Alright, here’s your answer then—nothing important,” Crowley said before turning away and going back into the house with a slam of the doors. 

Aziraphale stood for a few more moments, his lips pressed tight and a frown forming on his face. He probably had forgotten a small detail that was important to the other boy and he could only blame himself for indulging in all of the drinks offered to him the previous night but Crowley really didn’t need to react so volatile. He sighed and shook his head, slightly regretting that action the moment he did it. The two of them just needed to talk it out like always. Not like this had never happened before after all.

Crowley had avoided Aziraphale for the rest of the day but when the time came to pack things up and leave he still opened up the trunk to his car and waited for the other to put his things inside. Aziraphale did so but decided to ride in the back, letting another classmate have shotgun. Once Crowley had let off the rest of his friends and only Aziraphale was left the silence in the car grew awkward. Crowley had previously lowered down the music from the radio and now Aziraphale wasn’t sure if he wanted it to stay that way or for the other boy to raise it. 

The ride back to his house was both far too quick and excruciatingly slow. Once they finally reached it and Aziraphale gathered his things he stood by the car, weighing his options if he should say anything. 

“Goodbye,” he opted, a faint smile making its way to the corners of his mouth.

“Bye,” Crowley answered, flicking a glance at him before turning his attention back to the road and driving off.

Aziraphale watched the car disappear and wondered if he had really done something wrong.

* * *

The universities that Aziraphale and Crowley had gotten into ended up being in different cities and a substantial distance away from each other so in the end the future that Aziraphale had hoped would not come to fruition had happened anyway, no matter his wishes. Ever since the school-end party at the beach Crowley had grown more distant, though the two of them still met up and spent time together. It just felt like something had changed and whenever Aziraphale had tried to approach the subject again the other would just get agitated or ignore the subject so after a while he stopped trying.

Crowley left to settle in his new place earlier than Aziraphale and the two had promised to keep in touch via phone and they could still meet during the holidays. It was odd watching Crowley drive off and knowing that it would be a long time until he got to see him again. Aziraphale had never truly considered how much of a constant the other boy had grown to be in his life. 

He left by then end of summer, a few polite goodbyes from his family members and a distance that Aziraphale had become used to since his early days. The only positive from them, he considered, was the fact that his bank account had been full enough to get himself a flat without any roommates and set a comfortable living without the need of getting a part-time job.

His literature studies were mainly enjoyable, though Aziraphale found that he preferred his own interpretations instead of other people’s. As promised, he kept in contact with Crowley, fairly often during the first few months, both of them venting about annoying classes, coursemates or professors, but as time went on the calls became less frequent, the few meet-ups they had planned felt too short-lived and eventually too much time had passed for whatever they had had to feel like a close friendship anymore. The spaces between calls grew too much for either of them to know what to talk about anymore in a comfortable manner and neither of them had tried to plan a meeting after the first several they had. Eventually everything just… stopped.

One day as he was going around his usual business surrounded by coursemates and friends Aziraphale realised that he felt quite lonely.

* * *

The doorbell to the bookshop chimed faintly from where Aziraphale had been at the back and the man felt a pang of dread flow through him which was not the most typical reaction to a potential customer but Aziraphale had not been the most typical bookshop owner. Somewhere at the back of his head he knew that other people would have called him stupid for not actually wanting to sell any of his books but that was a quiet voice that he had not payed any attention to in a while.

One of his favourite strategies was just pretending that he was too busy to come to the counter and eventually that would annoy most of his customers into leaving. To the more persistent ones he would give the spiel of an out-of-order cash register, though there would come times where he would have to reluctantly concede. Occasionally he would consider if he still had the possibility of turning this into a library. Money would never be a big problem as long as he kept on good terms with his family and good terms meant ignoring each other and giving stiff greetings during the holidays and birthdays.

Aziraphale unenthusiastically made his way towards the bookshelves, keeping himself hidden from view as to not make it look like this place actually had a working staff. He had learnt over time to distinguish between people who came here to actually buy something and those who only wandered in to browse his collection in order to kill some time before heading off somewhere else. He really hoped it was the later this time around.

He spotted the customer at the gardening section, crouched low with his back turned to him. This was a point towards potential buyer since casual browsers would typically hang around the popular fiction or nonfiction areas, leafing through the bestsellers. Aziraphale sighed internally, getting ready to disappear between the labyrinthine bookshelves, but before he could do so the man turned slightly, shifting his head to look at the books lined further to the right and picking out one of them, and the sight froze Aziraphale dead in his tracks.

A serpentine tattoo greeted him near the other’s ear which held the dark frames of sunglasses, even though it had been an overcast spring day. The shorter hair accompanying the look was styled in a way that was not too familiar to Aziraphale but he was certain it was still the exact same auburn colour he had grown so used to all those years ago, even in the dim lighting of his bookshop, intended to dissuade anyone from reading the contents of the products.

“Crowley..?” he asked, barely a whisper, but it sounded deafening in the relative silence of the bookshop.

The other man stiffened up immediately and after a few more moments slowly turned around to see whoever had called him, giving Aziraphale a full look at him. The top of his shorter hair was poofed up in a messy yet stylish way, the shades that he always wore were a new design, and the features of his face had indications of aging, but all of that was still unmistakably Crowley.

“Aziraphale?” the other said and promptly dropped the book that he had been holding. He scrambled inelegantly to pick it up and once he stood he raised his glasses and squinted as though trying to discern if he was only imagining things. “It really is you. What are you doing here?” The expression on his face clearly told that he had instantly realised the redundancy of his question just as he asked it.

Aziraphale couldn’t help the small smile that graced his face. “Well, I own this place, so I guess I’m working here? My name _is_ at the front after all.”

“You do? It is?” Crowley still seemed for a loss of words as he barely hid his gawk. “I didn’t notice. Just kinda went in because someone told me that this was a bookshop. It does make sense though, you always did love books just a tad too much.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, trying to keep himself from laughing at Crowley’s bewilderment. “That settles me but what are _you_ doing here?” He glanced at the book held upside down in the other’s hands. “Planning on starting a garden?”

“Wha— No,” Crowley said, confused. He then seemed to realise what he was holding and began waving the book around. “Oh, this is just for work.”

“Work? Didn’t you study astronomy? Are they already planning on planting gardens up in space?”

“No, I work at a greenhouse. They just wanted me to find a specific book,” Crowley began explaining but was interrupted by a notification sound from his phone. He took it out from his skinny jeans and gave a quick read. He swore under his nose and shoved the phone back into his pocket. “I need to run. Shit, this sucks. It’s been so long since I last saw you.”

“Far too long,” Aziraphale said, a feeling of something slipping away washing over him as he saw Crowley begin heading for the door. He should call out, ask if he’ll see him again or if this was just a complete accident that would not repeat itself again.

Crowley stopped by the door and stood with his back to Aziraphale for a few moments before suddenly turning back. “How about we go for dinner? We could catch up then.”

This took the other man by surprise but he smiled broadly in return. “That would be splendid! I’ll close up today at seven.”

“Today?” Crowley echoed but quickly gathered himself. “Sure, fuck it, why not. I’ll pick you up at nine then. Will you be here?”

Aziraphale gave a nod and the two of them said their goodbyes, Crowley making absolutely sure that the other would not go anywhere before the appointed time. Once he left and the bell chimed to a closing door Aziraphale took some time to just stand in the spot he had been and try to decide if what had just happened had been a good thing or not. It had been years since he had last talked to Crowley, even more since he had actually seen him in person. It had taken him a while to accept the fact that people just grow apart and that it couldn’t be helped. He could have blamed the physical distance between them but there had been an increasing emotional distance as well. He had come to terms that both of them would most likely never see each other again and continue on with their lives separately but all of that had been upended. And now he was alone in his bookshop, wondering if he should just close early and go make himself some cocoa. Overthinking wouldn’t help him, he would just go with the flow and see what happened.

As promised, Crowley came by at nine on the dot and Aziraphale was pleasantly surprised to see that he was driving the car he had always talked about and shown him pictures from magazines when they were little. Crowley shrugged it off, saying that it was no big deal, though Aziraphale could see that he was proud of himself. They stopped at an upscale restaurant and Aziraphale knew that they would need a reservation for this type of place but Crowley had apparently taken care of everything as he waltzed in, said his name and proceeded to lead them to their table. 

At first Aziraphale had been worried that the evening might be awkward because of how much time had passed and how different both of them might have become but as their orders were served and the conversation trickled on he grew more and more comfortable in the familiar company. They mainly talked about simple things and what they had been doing with their lives and that was enough for the current setting. Crowley explained that he had eventually decided to delve deeper into biology and botany and surprisingly found that he really enjoyed working with plants so he was now doing exactly that. He still enjoyed astronomy, it just wasn’t his main focus anymore. Aziraphale, in turn, told how he came to opening his own bookshop and lamented about his predicament of not actually wanting to part with any of his books. That resulted in a snort from Crowley and Aziraphale becoming defensive about the dilemma he was in. 

Before he knew it the evening was quickly coming to an end and Aziraphale realised that he didn’t want it to. Who knew how long it would take for the two of them to see each other again or if that would even happen. He told himself that it would, they had clicked too well back into place for everything to fade away again, but he was still not ready to let the moment go. As Crowley was paying the bill—much to Aziraphale’s annoyance—the other man decided that he could just return the favour and perhaps be a little selfish in his own right, so he offered to continue the evening back at his place with the offer of a split bottle of Chianti. Crowley agreed without much thinking and drove them back to the bookshop where Aziraphale’s apartment was just above it.

Aziraphale happily led the other man to the living room and popped the bottle as he hummed to himself indistinctly. He had gotten it as a present some time ago and hadn’t decided on an occasion to drink it but this was the perfect one. He filled up two glasses and made himself comfortable on the armchair, watching Crowley perch up on the sofa, his long limbs still falling over everywhere at odd angles like they used to.

“Funny thing,” Aziraphale said as he sipped his wine, “I’ve grown averse to drinking too much since I could never remember much of what happened if I didn’t dose myself. Couldn’t enjoy myself at parties if I never knew how exactly they went. Hope this won’t wipe my memory clean,” he joked as he toasted to Crowley from afar.

“Did university make you a party animal?” the other grinned as he slipped off his shades and put them on the table, delighting Aziraphale with that small gesture. “Let me guess—you forgot that you had some sort of test on Shakespeare or something on Monday, got completely wasted on the weekend, and forgot everything you had read?”

“Oh no, I did quite well with Shakespeare. I meant I just couldn’t remember the party. Besides, this isn’t something new, it had happened a few times when we were still in school.”

“It did?” Crowley leaned slightly closer on the sofa, staring at Aziraphale and quirking an eyebrow. “I never noticed.”

“Usually I would just accept that it had happened and not dig deeper, didn’t really see the point in that. I did try to ask you a few times if you could point out anything of significance, though you never really did. Like the last party we had in summer when school had just ended. You just got angry and ignored me, so of course I figured something important must have happened but you were the only one I could ask and you did not want to talk about it.”

As Aziraphale talked he saw how the expression on Crowley’s face gradually shifted from relaxed amusement to one of guarded disbelief and a hint of a forming thought that he had yet to fully grasp. “Wait,” he put up his free hand and furrowed his brow. “So you mean whenever you drank too much you couldn’t remember it later?”

“Yes, my dear. Haven’t you been paying attention to what I was saying?” Aziraphale said, letting incredulousness tint his tone. “Perhaps you’re the one who should lay off the wine then?”

Crowley just averted his eyes to the glass in his hands and quietly muttered, “You don’t remember.” He didn’t look angry like the boy from Aziraphale’s memories had, only slightly surprised.

“Not really, but that was a long time ago. I’m much better at moderation now,” Aziraphale said, hoping this would change the subject. He might have just screwed himself over by bringing that back up again.

Crowley, however, did not seem like he wanted to let it go. “Then what about that party in summer—do you not remember anything?”

Aziraphale sighed and made himself more comfortable in his seat. “It’s been a while so time has also aided in this, but I can recall general things, just no specifics. I’m sure we had some joyful activities at the beach, watched the bonfire and the sunset, and of course there was food and drinks. Perhaps there was some stargazing—I think the summer sky always looked nice if there were no clouds.”

“And?” Crowley urged, now sitting almost at the very edge of the sofa.

“And I don’t think there’s anything else?” Aziraphale gave him an apologetic shrug. “Maybe some intermittent passing out and unwieldy stumbling into the bed, but that is all I can give you. Do you want to fill in the blanks?”

Crowley exhaled a deep breath and leaned back into the sofa, tilting his head upwards as he craned his neck. And then he began laughing. First a shaky giggle that soon turned into a full-out guffaw, finally calming down into a breathless wheeze as the man put one hand on his face and drew it down, steadying himself back into a somewhat calmer demeanor. He looked at Aziraphale incredulously and the other stared back at him expectantly.

“You look way too genuine to be lying and here I spent so much time like a complete moron thinking that you had just decided it had been a drunken mistake and pretended like it never happened.”

“If you want to talk about it you should really consider being less cryptic because I am still not following you.”

“We made out!” Crowley threw his arms out dramatically. “And on my shitty car no less.”

Now it was Aziraphale’s turn to be taken aback. He blinked a few times, tried to say something, failed, and eventually just let his mouth form a small ‘o’. He nearly spilled his half glass of wine in his stupor and scrambled to put it on the table before averting his attention back on Crowley. 

“So it wasn’t a dream?” Aziraphale asked, though it was directed more towards himself.

“A dream? So you did remember?” the other squinted his golden eyes.

“Not exactly,” Aziraphale was quick to correct himself. “I only had a vague feeling that something happened and I relegated it to a dream because I never thought that it would actually be possible.”

“Didn’t think it was possible?” Crowley snorted. “I was mooning over you during most of our time at school. _I_ thought I was subtle but even other people noticed. Of course I made them shut up but my point stays.”

“You know how my family was—I wasn’t used to positive attention. And even if I had noticed anything that would have been quite conceited of me to interpret it as romantic interest.” Aziraphale huffed as though he had been trying to justify himself against a false accusation. 

“Drunk you did, _angel_.” Crowley raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“And he didn’t bother to let sober me in on the details,” the other man retorted but he couldn’t keep his defensive attitude for long and burst out into a fit of chuckles himself. “Oh this is so stupid,” he said as he picked his glass up and took a good gulp.

“That’s an understatement. Though to be fair, I was the more stupid one in this case.”

“Nonsense.” Aziraphale shook his head. "You were rightfully angry since from your perspective I was being a colossal prick.”

Crowley just sighed and let it slide, dropping his head low as he put his elbows on his thighs and slouched down. “At least we talked it out.”

“Took us a while.”

“Great friends we were.”

At that the atmosphere in the room quieted down and Aziraphale finally took the time for the conversation that they had just had to fully sink in. It had never been one-sided. He had actually _kissed_ Crowley and he couldn’t even remember that thanks to his abhorrent reaction to too much alcohol.

And all of it was left behind all those years ago.

It was foolish for him to hope and yet he couldn’t help it. If nothing else, at least they seemed to have reconciled. They could try to revive whatever they had had in their younger days, even if it could never be the same again. At least he could attempt to bring Crowley back into his life again.

“So all of that said, did you really like me too?” Crowley asked, clearly trying to sound nonchalant but to Aziraphale it was an obvious mask.

“I did,” he didn’t feel the need to hide that anymore but he had to decide if he wanted to hide something else. He breathed in and decided _fuck it,_ “I still do.”

For a few moments Crowley just stared at him and that was enough to make Aziraphale’s mind run a marathon and back but before he could try to take it back the other finally spoke up, “Then would you want to try and do this more like adults and not overly emotional teens?”

“You’re still quite emotional,” Aziraphale playfully argued back.

“And so are you,” the other shot back with a gentle smile. Aziraphale thought the look suited him nicely. “I didn’t get an answer, though.” His expression quickly turned more serious yet the other man could see the tint of worry reflected in his eyes. “I get it if you would rather leave it all behind. I did royally mess up and it’s been so many years since that time. Things change, something that was in the past should be left in the past and all that.”

Instead of answering Aziraphale stood up from his seat and walked over to Crowley, sitting next to him on the sofa and fully turning to him. He tentatively touched the other’s hand and when Crowley didn’t flinch or pull it back he put both of his around it and squeezed lightly. 

“I’d love that.” He smiled sincerely and for the first time in a long while he didn’t feel lonely anymore.

* * *

The background sounds of the park were distant enough to create a soothing ambience for Aziraphale, who sat on one of the benches and watched the swans lazily swim by him on the lake. The warm summer air was pleasant enough to get most people outside to enjoy it. He found it suitable and didn’t even check the time as he sat by himself and let his thoughts wander. He probably should have brought a book, though.

“Sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice sounded next to him and Aziraphale happily turned to see Crowley sprawl out beside him, dropping a bag of apples by the armrest. He took one out and offered it to the other man. “Want one? This one lady always brings a ton of fruit and vegetables and forces you to take them even if you say no.”

Aziraphale gladly took the glistening red apple and took a bite, watching Crowley take one out for himself and do the same. “And she doesn’t ask anything in return?” he asked.

“Nothing unless you count the time she takes from you by going off about the stupidest things,” Crowley huffed and waved his apple as he continued. “Like today she stared at my hands when I took the damned fruit and promptly began asking me why I wasn’t hitched. She started going on ‘oh, you’re not growing younger. You should really think of the benefits’,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice and a mocking expression. “Then she began explaining it to me like it was a math equation or a business proposal, going through the pros and cons. I was almost ready for her to just take out a projector and put on a presentation.”

“Did you manage to escape her?” Aziraphale asked, trying not to laugh at the other’s exasperation. 

“Barely. That’s why I was late. Told her that I would consider her recommendations, though frankly they would fall flat since the part of me that decides if I want to settle down is not the brain.”

“Buuut,” Aziraphale cooed as he wiggled contently in his seat and looked expectantly at the other man.

“But?” Crowley said, scrunching up his nose and looking back at him.

Aziraphale took the time to have another bite of the apple and as he chewed he watched his reflection on the other’s glasses be replaced by Crowley’s own eyes meeting him as he lifted the shades up to the top of his head. Aziraphale pointed his index finger at Crowley’s chest, poking him playfully. The other man looked down at his finger and Aziraphale couldn’t help but quickly snap it up, popping Crowley’s nose and eliciting a surprised noise. Before Crowley could complain Aziraphale leaned in and gave him a peck. As he returned to his previous position he smiled as though nothing had happened and watched Crowley try to keep a composed expression and fail miserably.

“The heart is.”


End file.
